Seven Year Hitch
by tiffanyanne3
Summary: What happens when the honeymoon is over? Marriage isn't hearts and roses all the time, nor is it always vanilla and boring. A story in however many acts, utilizing daily WitFit prompts. Situational humor.  BxE AH Rated M
1. The TP Debacle

**A/N: This story has no discernible timeline. Think of it as a bunch of mini-stories in one, concentrating on the more humorous, realistic aspects of marriage. Give it a try! I think you'll like it.**

**Summary:** **Edward and Bella have been married for seven years. This is what marriage is really like. It's not all hearts and roses all the time, nor is it constantly boring and vanilla. This will be realistic, hopefully funny, and pretty light. :)**

**Thanks so much to TKegl for the amazing banner! Link: (dotcom) /photos/65703735 N06/5979623703/**

**Ch. 1: The TP Debacle**

"Edward?" My voice bounced off the tiles of our bathroom and echoed back to me.

Nothing.

"Edward!" I called again, a little louder this time. I knew he hadn't left our bedroom. If he had, I would've heard our dog Luna's nails clicking along the wood floor as she followed him, ever at his heels.

With a huff, I grabbed the empty toilet paper roll and waddled out of the bathroom with my pants around my knees. I peeked around the door to find him sitting up against the headboard, reading a magazine. The dog was curled up against his legs as he idly scratched her floppy ears. I opened the door fully and threw the stupid cardboard cylinder at his head.

Here's the thing about empty toilet paper rolls: they weigh...nothing. And apparently they aren't quite aerodynamic. The stupid thing barely grazed the cover of the magazine in Edward's hands. Not a single noise. Not a page rippled. He was entirely undisturbed.

"Edward Cullen!" I shouted.

He looked up in surprise and pulled an earbud out of one ear. "Did you say something?"

I huffed and pointed at the empty cardboard roll that sat on his lap. "Yes."

"Are you aware that you haven't pulled your knickers up?"

A short grunt of frustration escaped as I fought the urge to stomp my foot. "Yes! You used the last of the toilet paper and didn't replace the roll."

He slid his reading glasses down his nose. Stupid glasses, making my husband look so hot. It was almost enough to distract me from my anger. "Are you sure? I could've sworn I did."

I sighed and waddled back into the bathroom. "Can you just get a roll from the linen closet, please?" My tone of voice was less than pleasant, but pleasant was not something I felt at the moment.

Footsteps sounded across the wooden floor, and sure enough, Luna's nails clicked right along behind them.

"Here you go, hun bun." Edward tossed the new roll to me, but I didn't get my hands up quickly enough; it hit me square in the face. It was soft and didn't hurt even a little bit, but I was already annoyed.

"Ow!" I shouted.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Bella. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Edward. Can I have some privacy, please?"

He shrugged and closed the door behind him as he retreated back into the bedroom. I finished my business, changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed beside my husband. The earbuds and iPod were gone, but he was still immersed in the magazine. Luna raised her head at the disturbance of the blankets. I could have sworn she narrowed her big brown eyes at me as she snuggled deeper into Edward's side. She was his girl, and she was a jealous one. Even though we'd had her for all seven years of our marriage, she wanted nothing to do with me if Edward was around.

_Traitor, _I thought as I narrowed my eyes right back at her and turned onto my right side. We girls were supposed to be allies. Obviously she wasn't aware.

I heard the quiet smack of Edward's magazine hitting the nightstand before he cuddled up behind me. "Bella?" he whispered as his lips met my neck. I stayed quiet, still in a snit about the toilet paper incident. Yes, it was stupid to be mad about such a trivial thing. It wasn't that I was actually angry about that; it had been one of those days where little things had built up to amount to one big monster of a day. The leaning tower of frustration could take no more. An empty T.P. roll had simply been the proverbial last straw.

"Love you," Edward said as he retreated back to his side of the bed and turned off the reading lamp. "Good night."

I pursed my lips, but I couldn't ignore him. Already, I was beginning to feel guilty over my miniature tantrum, so I mumbled a short, "Night."

He started to snore lightly after just a few minutes. The man could fall asleep anytime, anywhere. I envied the way he could close his eyes and drift off. As I lay there and tried to will my body into a drowsy state, attempting to forget the day's frustration, a memory flitted through my mind from that morning.

A clumsy hand wielding a clumpy mascara wand. A big smudge of makeup right over my eye. Using the last of the toilet paper to clean up the gloppy, black mess on my face.

_Well, fuck, _I thought. I sighed again, feeling horrible about accusing Edward when I was the culprit in the case of the missing T.P.

As I turned over and snuggled into his side, his arm immediately wrapped around me in his sleep. Lucky thing he was an even-tempered, forgiving husband. Lord knew I'd had my fair share of temper tantrums over the years. I pressed a kiss to his chest before laying my head in the nook his arm created just for me.

"I love you, too," I whispered.


	2. Dishes From Hell

**A/N: Thanks for the great reviews! I enjoyed reading your comments and stories. Isn't it funny how we all seem to have the same little arguments in our respective relationships?**

**Prompt for this chapter: Putrid**

**Follow me on Twitter, if you're so inclined: tiffanyanne3FF**

There was a silent stand-off going down in the Cullen household, and it didn't look like either party was going to cave. If anyone had any doubt that dishes didn't wash themselves, all they had to do was visit our lovely abode. The fetid odor had at least confined itself to the kitchen. Of course, that didn't do me any good when I entered the house through the garage door...which led straight into the room that smelled of death. The death of rotten food remnants. I gagged and ran up the stairs to the haven of my nice, cool, non-smelly bedroom to change out of my work clothes.

When I had stripped down to my underwear, I flopped back onto the bed to enjoy the respite from the hot, humid day. The ceiling fan turned lazily above, and my eyes focused on one of the blades as it rotated round and round.

I refused to do it. I was not going to be the one to give in. The image of the dishes piled in the sink made my skin crawl. They were overflowing not only both sides of said sink but were also stacked on the counter next to it. I shuddered. I liked order. I liked cleanliness. But I would not cave.

Edward and I were both positive that it was the other's turn to do the dishes. Since we both worked full time, we'd always taken turns with the household chores. Seven years of marriage and cohabitation. Seven years of the same routine. It wasn't the first time we'd disagreed on whose turn it was, but it was the first time the disagreement had reached the level of grotesque disorder that was present in our kitchen.

The sound of shuffling and the office chair rolling over the floor in the next room told me that Edward was most likely done with work for the day. He was a computer software engineer, lucky enough to work from home. Some days he said it wasn't such a great thing, but oh, how I'd love to wake up ten minutes before the start of my day and go to work in my pajamas. Instead, I had a half-hour trek downtown, where I worked as a career counselor at the local university. I spent my days assuring whiny college kids that, yes, there was a job out there for them somewhere, but no, they probably weren't going to find that dream job at Simon & Schuster or NASA right out of undergrad.

Edward entered our bedroom just as I was pulling on a t-shirt and yoga pants. Luna, as always, was hot on his trail.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning over to kiss me. I loved his plump, pouty lips and the way he used them. My body relaxed slightly in his presence. "How was your day?"

"Great," I said. "I led two seminars on resumé writing. They're voluntary, so the kids who come actually _want_ to be there. Makes it much easier on me."

He chuckled. "Well, it's Friday. You know what that means."

"Two whole days of sitting around and doing nothing?"

"Well, yes. But...you know. It's Friday afternoon."

I played dumb. "Oh? What's so special about Friday afternoon?"

"You know. When we do that thing we like to do to unwind." His lips found the special spot behind my ear, and my muscles relaxed further.

Luna chose that moment to jump up on the bed and make her presence known. She hopped over the blankets and licked my cheek.

"Ugh, Luna! Your breath smells like a landfill!" I yelled. It didn't deter her from planting more kisses on my hand as I pushed her away from my face.

"Maybe that's the smell of the dishes finally wafting upstairs," Edward said with a smirk.

I sighed. "Yeah. We should probably do those. They might come in handy one day if we want to...ya know...make food or something."

Fifteen minutes later, after grumbling about chores and work, we stood at the threshold of the kitchen, staring at the putrid, semi-organized mess.

"At least they're stacked neatly," Edward said. "You don't think they'll fuse together to form some Transformer-type super dish and come after us, do you?"

"Maybe we should just order pizza. It's been a long week. You can do them in the morning."

"_I_ can do them? Bella, it's your turn."

"It is not! I distinctly remember being the last one to put them away, because I broke a bowl."

"Yeah, and that was two weeks ago. I did them after that, and then they started piling up."

"When did you do them?" I asked, my voice raised slightly.

"When you were at work!" he volleyed. "You didn't notice because I did it all while you were gone. I loaded and unloaded the dishwasher while I was waiting on some software to upload."

"And you have this kind of downtime during the day to do stuff like that? You should take pity on me and just do it."

The stare-down rivaled that of one at high noon at the OK Corral. A tumbleweed danced across the floor as we faced off. Maybe it was a dust bunny; I wasn't sure whose turn it was to vacuum either. My eyes narrowed as Edward reached into his pocket for his phone and called our favorite pizza place.

It was when we were sitting in front of the television later with our steaming slices of pizza – on paper plates – that we were jarred into reality. Edward channel surfed past a show called _How Clean Is Your House?_ and we both stopped mid-bite. The woman on the television was making a huge deal out of the messy state of a rather embarrassed-looking couple's home.

"Look at this stain here in the sink. See this?" she screeched. "We did a culture, and it is a very dangerous mold that could make you quite sick."

I stared at the mess on the television couple's counter and mentally compared it to our own.

Edward must have been doing the same, because his face seemed to turn a pale green. Our eyes met, and without a word, we sheepishly walked to the kitchen to clean up our mess. Edward patted my back while I gagged at the smell. I pulled my t-shirt up over my nose and tried to breathe through my mouth only. He cursed as he tried to scrape dried bits off plates and bowls. Luna sat at our feet with her tongue hanging out and her tail wagging, obviously hoping for a morsel to drop to the floor.

_Disgusting, _I thought. _No wonder her breath smells like a trash can._

It took ten minutes to remedy a week's worth of old food and silent blame. Edward handed me a beer and clinked his own bottle against it, toasting to teamwork.

"Teamwork," I said grudgingly. When he turned his back, I added in a low voice, "It was still your turn to do the dishes."


	3. Pantsed!

**A/N: Sorry this took a few days. I was in North Carolina for a family thing over the weekend and didn't get a chance to write at all. Happy reading! **

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><p>We needed a break. Things had been rough, job-wise, for both of us during the month of April. Luckily, summer break was just around the corner for the college, meaning I'd get some time off with no panicky seniors looking for available jobs. And don't even get me started on the students looking for internships. Some of those kids had never worked a day in their lives, and they were indignant about starting now and not getting paid for it. I had to convince them that having the experience for their resumés was priceless. You can see why I needed a reprieve.<p>

Edward was up to his ears in his work as well. Don't ask me what he was working on, because I couldn't tell you. Technology and I had long ago agreed to disagree; it allowed me to use its modern conveniences, while I complied with its haughty commands and neediness for security.

We were both able to take a week off in May and decided to visit a place we'd never seen before. I wanted a tropical beach and a strawberry daiquiri. I could practically taste it. Edward had other ideas.

"New York City," he said excitedly. "Neither of us has been there, and there are tons of things to do. We can even see a Broadway show if you want."

I considered his offer, feeling the taste of rummy ice and fruit and the feel of sand between my toes slip away. I'd always wanted to see a Broadway musical. And all the museums! Maybe a lemonade in Central Park could serve as a watered down version of my relaxing paradise. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got.

"Okay," I told him. "As long as you don't re-neg on the Broadway show, we can go to New York."

"Yes!" He gave a little fist pump and grabbed me in a bear hug. "This is going to be awesome."

"Yeah, yeah," I said sarcastically, but I was unable to hide an excited grin. I had to admit it – the more I thought of all the cool stuff we could do in New York, the more appealing it sounded. As I let my mind wander, I felt Edward's hands roaming my body, smoothing down my hips and then over the curve of my bottom before hitching my leg up.

"You know what this means?" he asked in a low voice.

I shook my head.

"Crazy hot hotel sex," he said, nipping at my ear.

x-x-x

Within ten minutes of entering our posh hotel room near Central Park, Edward had me pressed up against the wall as he attacked my neck with his lips and tongue.

"Edward, I feel all gross from being on the plane." My protest was half-hearted as he sucked gently at the sensitive spot just under my ear, and I shivered at the sensation.

"You don't look gross." He licked a thin line up my neck. "You certainly don't taste gross."

I sighed in complete and utter pleasure as he slipped his hands under my butt and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him, and he walked us over to the plush, luxurious hotel bed. Kisses, caresses, tugging at clothes... We became more and more frantic as things heated up.

"Edward," I begged. "Want you now."

Without words, he pushed my jeans down, pulled the cups of my bra aside, and began to lick at my nipples while he positioned himself down below. A sharp pain shot through my boob. "Ouch!" I yelled, covering my nipple with my hand. "Edward, you bit me!"

He pulled back and looked at me with a sheepish expression. "Sorry," he said. "I thought it might feel good."

"Biting? As in teeth? No. Just no!" My nipple still smarted.

"Here, let me kiss it better," he murmured. As he worked my pebbled skin with his tongue, I began to sink back into blissful, tingling arousal. His erection slid against me a few times before entering in one long, slow push. We both groaned.

You'd think after nine years together and seven of marriage, sex might get...boring. While I had to admit that we sometimes slipped into a routine where foreplay was concerned, the sex was never same-old, same-old. Sometimes it was vanilla; other times it was steamy; and then there were the occasions when we couldn't get it together and laughed the whole time.

"Bella," he groaned. "I don't think this will last long. We haven't done it in over a week."

"Really?" I said with a pant. "Are you sure? I could've sworn we did it on Monday."

Oh, yeah. We sometimes had regular conversation mid-coitus.

"Maybe," he breathed.

"Edward... I can't remember if–"

He covered my mouth with kisses. "Just stay in here, Bella. With me. Don't worry about anything else."

I melted. It wasn't often that Edward said or did romantic things. But when he did, it made my whole body go warm and mushy. I busied my mouth kissing him instead of talking. I shifted against him and felt the familiar slow spiral in my abdomen. Before I knew it, I was falling apart in his arms, closing my eyes and losing myself in euphoria. His lips were pressed together in a thin line when I opened my eyes. His eyes were slightly narrowed. It was his sex face. Coincidentally, it was the expression he wore when concentrating on something. I bit my lip and tried not to giggle, knowing he was right on the edge. He groaned, thrust a few more times, and then stilled before collapsing.

We lay with arms and legs tangled comfortably together, catching our breath and enjoying the cool air conditioning on heated skin. The cool air became too much after a while.

"I'm getting cold," I said.

"Hm. Well, I'm hungry," Edward replied. "What do you say we get cleaned up and go out to find some dinner?"

I smiled and nodded before kissing his jawline. He hopped up and pulled me to my feet, and I made my way to the bathroom to wash up and redress. A minute later, I heard Edward mumbling to himself out in the room.

"Bella?" he called. "Are we missing a bag?"

I went back out into the room and surveyed our luggage. One large suitcase, a small duffel, and two carry-ons. I knew that was it. I'd packed everything myself while Edward tied up some loose ends with an on-site installation job. "Nope. It's all here."

Edward continued rifling through the open suitcase as I plucked a sundress and sweater from the top of the stacks of clothing. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Looking for something to wear."

"It's not a big deal. We won't go anywhere fancy."

"Bella, I can't find..." He trailed off as he unzipped the duffel and sorted through its contents. His eyes widened. "I know they're not in my carry-on."

"What on earth are you looking for?"

He sighed and threw his hands up in the air before letting them fall back down to his sides, slapping against his bare legs. "Pants! There are no pants! Or shorts, even. Bella." He sort of glared and let out a frustrated laugh. "You didn't pack me any pants!"

_Oops..._


	4. Bossy Breeches

**A/N: Oh my gosh, I LOVE the reviews this story is getting. It's so much fun hearing everyone's stories about married life. Isn't it funny how the things we think are crazy are actually quite normal? lol Thank you so very much for reading this crazy thing. ;) **

**p.s. If you want to follow me on twitter, i'm tiffanyanne3FF.**

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><p>"No pleats!" I said rather loudly as Edward emerged from the fitting room.<p>

"But–"

"No!" I repeated. "Edward, pleats are so...ugly. It looks like you have a pillow in your pants."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well hey, if that's the case, then I definitely want them."

"Ugh. I didn't mean in a good way, Edward." I waved my hand at him and tried to rein in a sneer. "Just go take them off."

"Actually," came a feminine voice from behind me, "pleats are very nice. They give a nice shape to the middle and create volume."

"See?" Edward exclaimed. "This lovely sales associate thinks they look nice. She probably knows her stuff." He turned his flirty eyes upon her. "How long have you worked at Macy's?"

I turned to find a woman standing there, eying my husband's – how had she put it? _Middle. _The well-meant smile on my face probably looked more like a grimace.

"Oh," she said, flustered and blushing, "I've worked here for thirty years now." She appeared to be fanning herself behind the pair of hideous pants she held up. "Now, look at these. I think they'd look very nice on you, dear. The green shade will bring out your lovely eyes."

"I prefer that my husband doesn't wear pleats," I said, taking them from her only to hang them back on the clearance rack where they rightly belonged. "Or this particular shade of...pea green." It was more like baby poop, but I didn't want to be quite _that_ rude.

"Flo," came another, slightly more masculine voice. "Someone needs you in the ladies' department."

With that, Flo flitted away to help someone else, and my savior descended upon us.

"You are so right, honey," said the male sales associate. "Pleats are plain awful. My name is Christian. Here," he said, thrusting an armful of dress pants at Edward. "Try these."

"But Bella," he whined, turning to me. "These are on clearance! They're only ten bucks!"

Christian put a hand on Edward's back and guided him back to the row of small changing rooms. "I'll give you the employee discount," he said in a loud whisper.

Seemingly appeased, yet still defeated, Edward disappeared behind one of the many doors, and I heard the lock click behind him.

"Thank you," I said, wondering if it would be inappropriate to hug Christian. "I had the urge to slug that woman. You probably saved her life."

"Flo's ancient," he said in a low voice. "She's been here since shoulder pads were in vogue. I try to steer her away from giving people advice."

I giggled as Edward emerged. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Oh, those look much better. They don't even need any tailoring! What I wouldn't give for a body like yours," he fussed as he looked to me for approval. "I have to have all my pants hemmed."

"I like them," I told Edward. "They look really good."

"But they're four times as much as the clearance ones," he mumbled.

Christian ignored him as he hung up the heinous, pleated...things...and stuck them behind everything else on the clearance rack. "I almost want to buy these myself, just so I can burn them. Don't know what those buyers upstairs were thinking."

"We'll take those," I told him, gesturing to the pants Edward wore. "And another pair in gray. He also needs some jeans and a pair of shorts."

Edward shrugged at the salesman. "She forgot to pack pants for me."

Christian winked at me. "Well, if I were going on vacation with a man who looked like _that_, I'd 'forget' to pack pants too."

We laughed as Edward scowled. "The more we spend here, the worse our seats are for _Phantom of the Opera_."

Christian gasped, and his hand flew to his heart. "You wouldn't. You must find another way to save. Broadway is not to be trifled with."

"Well, I don't have a New York salary. I usually buy pants off the sale rack at Old Navy. And tickets for Broadway shows are expensive."

Christian appeared to gag when Edward mentioned Old Navy. "Stop talking," I told Edward out of the side of my mouth.

With the help of my new partner in crime, we were out of the store in twenty minutes and on our way back to the hotel to drop Edward's purchases.

"It's a good thing you remembered to pack underwear for me," he grumbled. "God only knows how astronomical the price of a simple package of boxers would be."

"Look, Edward," I huffed as we boarded the elevator to our room. "I said I was sorry. Multiple times. I didn't do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. You don't have to keep bringing it up."

He shrugged and sighed as he unlocked our door, but a small smile played at the corner of his lips. "I think you did it on purpose. You just wanted to keep me in the room all week and have your way with me."

I snorted. "Yes, Edward. That was my exact plan. Who cares about Times Square or Central Park or freakin' _Phantom of the Opera?_ I want to stay holed up in a stuffy room for the week and watch the city speed by outside the window."

"Come on," he said after dropping the bags and flopping down onto the bed. "You know it sounds like a good time." There was a tug on my arm, and then I was on top of him.

"I will concede that hotel sex is the best," I said softly. "But I honestly just forgot the pants. I was just so flustered, trying to get everything together at the last minute while you were working."

His hand caressed my face, and he tugged at my lips with his. "I'm sorry, babe. I know it was frustrating having to get everything together by yourself. It's partially my fault, too."

"What's this? Edward Cullen is admitting that he had a part in the omission of the pants?" I grinned and kissed him. "I thought I'd never see the day you'd acknowledge fault."

"Shh," he said. "I'm trying to kiss my wife."

It wouldn't be the last I heard of the not-so-traveling pants. He'd definitely tease me about it for years to come. But it was the last I heard of it during our vacation. And to be honest...it turned out that there weren't that many hours that he actually needed the pants that week anyway.


	5. Puppy Love

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading my silly story! I love sharing funny relationship stories with you lovelies. :)**

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><p>"My biological clock is ticking," I announced one night as Edward and I lay on the couch together. No response. I glanced over at him to see that his expression hadn't changed. But the tips of his ears had turned pink – the tell-tale sign that he was nervous.<p>

"Oh?" he squeaked.

"Yes. I think we should have..." I trailed off, purposely goading him and watching the color spread to cover his entire ear. "...another puppy."

There was an audible sigh and gulp. "Oh, thank God," he said. "I thought you were going to say you wanted a baby."

"Please," I scoffed. I'd used that introduction to the conversation on purpose, of course. I figured leading him into thinking I wanted something more and then dropping my request on him might work in my favor. "After working with kids in their late teens and early twenties all day, the last thing I want to do is have one of my own. Babies are cute and all, but they grow into sullen teenagers, and I just can't deal with that."

He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow.

"So...about that puppy," I began.

"Bella, I don't know. We'd have to start all over with the training thing, and I hate cleaning up dog mess."

"It's not that bad. Plus, we have wood floors now. No carpet for the pee to sink into. And I'll clean it all up, anyway. You won't have to worry about it at all."

He bit his lip and reached down to pet Luna's head. "Do you think Luna would adjust well to having another dog in the house? You know what an attention whore she is."

"But it will be a puppy! She can raise it as if it were her own. Think about it. We had her spayed when we adopted her." I looked into his eyes before turning my attention to the dog and raising my arms dramatically. "She'll never have children of her own. This is your time to shine, Luna!"

Edward chuckled and kissed my cheek. "Cut out the theatrics. We can look at puppies if you want to. Maybe if she has a playmate, she won't be so clingy when I'm trying to work during the day."

"Let's go to the SPCA tomorrow."

He shrugged. "Okay. But just because we're looking doesn't mean we're going to come home with one tomorrow," he warned. He knew my propensity for begging like crazy, even when we agreed ahead of time that we weren't going to do something. I couldn't help it. I was impulsive, and I always had been.

Point in case: we brought a brand new, ten-week-old puppy home the very next day.

"Hi, puppy!" I cooed as we sat on the floor, plying the little terrier with chew toys and treats. He marched around, lifting his feet high into the air. "He's so cute!"

"Hey, little guy," Edward said, feeding him a tiny treat. "We need to think of a name for you." Luna, who had been standing by curiously, turned her nose up and walked away, curling up in the corner of the room. I could've sworn I saw her raise an eyebrow at him. "Aw, don't be like that, Lu," he told her, crawling over and snuggling up next to her on the floor. "You're still my best girl."

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"You're my best human girl. She's my best animal girl." He smirked and seemed to rethink his statement. "Although you can be pretty animalistic in the sack sometimes. So I'll go with her being my best canine girl."

I snorted. "You're awful."

"You know you love it. Now what should we name the new guy?"

"It has to be something cool. Maybe something tough since he's kind of small?" I suggested.

"How about Albus?" asked Edward. "Or Neville. It would be perfect. You know, to go with Luna."

"Uh, no. One Harry Potter-themed dog is enough in this house," I said, musing quietly on the fact that I'd suggested a tough name, while my husband leaned toward names from children's literature. How much more backwards could we get?

"Okay. Something tough... Tank? Spike?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Let's think about it for a while and decide later."

Later turned into days. After a week, I'd had enough of calling the dog Puppy. He was going to start answering only to that name if we didn't think of something soon.

Edward ran upstairs the next Sunday afternoon as I was getting ready for dinner with his parents. "Indiana!" he shouted, making me jump and almost burn myself on my flat iron.

"Iowa!" I yelled back. "Why are we shouting out names of Midwestern states?"

"No, as a name for the dog. I was just watching Indiana Jones, and it occurred to me. It's tough, right?" He lifted the puppy up into his arms like a baby and scratched his belly.

I considered the name for a second. "Hmm. I think that might work. I could call him Indy for short."

"What do you think, puppy?" Edward asked. "Is Indy your name?"

"Edward," I whispered, "I don't think he's going to answer. I'm worried about your sanity."

He cleared his throat. "Indiana it is."

x-x-x

I went to Indy's cage when we got home from dinner and let him out for a bathroom break. The little bastard went straight to Edward, jumping up on his legs and whining for attention.

"No," I said. "Not another one. _Another _pet who likes you better than me!"

"He doesn't like me better. I'm just home more than you are. He's more used to me."

I frowned as I tried to attach the leash to his collar. "Then how come he keeps running away from me? I just want to walk him, for crying out loud! Indiana Cullen, you come here," I said, trying to evoke a deep, strong voice.

Edward just laughed at my attempt and picked the puppy up, allowing me to leash him and lead him outside. He wouldn't budge. The damn dog wouldn't move. He just looked up at me and cocked his head to the side as I tried to coax him with treats and a sweet voice. I resignedly handed the leash over to Edward, who was trying to hide his smile behind his hand. Indy jumped right up and trotted behind Edward as he walked to the door.

"Edward!" I called before he could step outside. "Next time, we're getting a bird."


	6. Mixed Signals

**A/N: I fail at updating quickly. I'm out of town, visiting the in-laws, so I haven't had much time for writing. But here's a quick chapter for you. I'll be home on Tuesday and hopefully back to churning out chapters. **

**Huge thanks and credit go out to KristenLynn for the idea for this chapter! Thanks so much, bb! **

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><p>By the time the final boarding call for our flight home had been called, Edward and I had tried foods from six different airport restaurants...if that's what you want to call them. It was our second trip to New York City, but this one was much shorter than the previous week-long vacation. Edward happened to have some sort of conference to attend over a weekend, mere months after our first trip there. Our flight had been delayed several times due to thunderstorms in the area. I'd long since finished my book, and Edward had read through two techie magazines. I wasn't about to ask if I could flip through those. So we'd decided to go on a "culinary" tour of the airport terminal. New York City had so much to offer, especially where cuisine was concerned. Our week-long trip hadn't even afforded us enough time to taste all the yummy international foods.<p>

Shoveling them all in during a two-hour time slot hadn't been ideal. I was regretting it. As soon as I was securely buckled into my window seat, my stomach started grumbling over the abuse. I crossed my arms over my abdomen and grimaced at the embarrassing noise. Through taxi and takeoff, my stomach answered the roar of the engines with growls of its own.

Then came the cramps. Oh God, I thought. _Please not now. If I can just make it to cruising altitude, then I can use the restroom and ask for some water, and I'll be just fine. _I breathed in slowly through my nose and out through my mouth. The anxiety of having to wait was only making things worse.

As luck would have it, turbulence made it impossible for anyone – even the flight attendants – to leave their seats. By then, my stomach had reached a full-on rage.

Edward raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that your stomach growling, Bella? You can't possibly be hungry after Airport Feast 2011."

I rolled my eyes and scowled at him. "I'm not hungry. My...food's just settling, I guess."

He nodded and turned his attention back to the lovely offerings of SkyMall magazine. Just when I thought I wouldn't last another minute, the clouds parted – figuratively and literally. The normally annoying _ding _of the seatbelt sign turning off was music to my ears. I had the restraint undone in less than a second and sprang from my seat to attempt a mad dash to the lavatory.

Sweet relief.

I made my way back to my seat just in time to grab a water from the beverage cart.

"Feeling okay, hon?" Edward asked, patting my back as I downed half the bottle of water. "Motion sickness?"

I shook my head and gave him a small smile. "I'm fine."

Ten minutes later, I wasn't fine. Another trip to the bathroom. And another. A flight attendant pulled me aside after the third trip. "Is there anything we can do to make your flight more comfortable, ma'am?" she asked with a knowing smile.

I wasn't about to tell her the reason for my frequent trips. Though everyone on the plane probably knew. I could probably pass it off as a weak bladder or motion sickness if the length of time I was spending in the lav wasn't so telling. That led me to wonder why puking would be a less embarrassing explanation than the reality I was facing. Everybody did it, right? There was even a book about it. I cleared my throat and murmured as quietly as I could to the perfect blonde lady in the immaculate suit. "Would you happen to have some..." I lowered my voice even more and forced the word out of the side of my mouth. "Imodium?"

The pleasant smile didn't budge from her face. For a moment, I was relieved that she was so understanding and didn't flinch at my request. That small comfort was short-lived. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

I sighed and placed a hand over my abdomen. "Imodium," I said in a resigned tone.

"Oh, yes! I have a generic A-D medicine over here," she said, rather loudly for my taste.

"Shh!" I looked around and frantically gestured for her to keep it down. "Not so loud!"

Her perma-smile faltered as she handed me the little packet of pills and a cup of water. "Here you go. Hope this helps."

Edward raised an eyebrow at me when I made my way back to my seat. "What's up?" he asked.

"Just having a little chat with the flight attendant," I said as I buckled my seat belt.

"You know," he said, leaning over to whisper in my ear. He kissed it and traced his fingers up my thigh. "If there's anything you want, all you have to do is ask."

I stilled his hand and turned to give him a quick peck on the lips. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Are you sure? I couldn't help but notice that you seem antsy." His lips trailed softly over my jawline.

"Um..."

"You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

"What?" Did he seriously think...

"All those trips you made to the restroom. You were gone for a while. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. Do you want me to lead this time?"

"Edward, I didn't–"

"Don't lose your nerve _now_. I'll go first. Give it three minutes before you follow, and knock."

"Don't you think people will notice?" I asked nervously. I had no intention of following him.

He chuckled. "People do it all the time."

"What people? I don't know anyone who–"

"Jasper and Alice," he said of our best friends.

"Really? I wonder why she never told me."

"It doesn't matter," he said, moving his hand up my leg again and rubbing at the seam of my jeans.

"Uh, Edward, I wasn't trying to send you any signals. I was...my stomach was kind of upset from all that greasy food."

"Sure it was," he said. "You're just nervous, babe. It'll be fine. We won't get caught."

"I'm not nervous. I'm being serious." I showed him the torn medicine packet. "I had to ask for this, and it was humiliating. Trust me, I'd rather be caught in a compromising position of another sort than what actually happened."

He removed his hand from between my legs and sat back in his seat, but he still wore a dubious expression. "Fine. So you weren't sending me signals. But can't we do it anyway?"

"I'm really not in the mood." I breathed in deeply and rubbed my stomac. It was settled for the moment, and I had to admit that Edward's hands had played a part in taking my mind off it. Maybe he had a good idea after all... The flight wasn't full. The attendants weren't in my line of sight. I looked around and saw that the restrooms in the back of the plane were empty, and most of the seats nearby were vacant.

I waited awhile before I leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Meet me in the back in three minutes." I brushed my hand over his chest as I tried to maneuver myself across his lap in a hopefully seductive way.

"I knew it," he said with a mischievous grin.

I slipped into the small room and peeked into the mirror, fixing my hair and wiping a makeup smudge from my eyelid. Three minutes seemed to tick by at a much slower rate than they should have. Finally, there was a knock at the door. My heart rate sped, and I pasted a naughty grin on my face. Just as I put my hand on the door to push it open, I heard a muffled, mildly chastising voice.

"Sir, the lavatory is occupied. You can take your seat and wait, or there are others at the front of the plane."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." It was definitely Edward's disappointed voice.

I waited a few more minutes before flushing the toilet and washing my hands, just in case the attendant was still nearby. She was standing next to the door when I exited.

"I thought I'd bring you another dose," she said, pursing her lips and holding out a new packet of Imodium.

"Thanks," I said weakly and plucked the medicine from her hand. "That's really...sweet of you."

"No problem. Happens all the time."

I wasn't sure which scenario she meant, but I had been caught in both. It didn't matter which I'd previously thought was more humiliating, because a double dose of embarrassment was more than enough for me. I went back to my seat and stayed there with my legs crossed for the rest of the flight.

"Bella?" Edward leaned over me again and placing his hand on my knee.

I raised an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms. "No."

"But–"

"No!" I said in a low, growly voice.

"Just listen–"

"I'm not joining the Mile High Club, Edward. Getting caught once was enough for me."

"I wasn't suggesting..." He trailed off. That was when I heard his stomach rumble. _Oh._ He looked both sheepish and miserable. "I was just going to ask for that other pack of Imodium."


	7. Exasperated

**A/N: yeah...so the whole "hope to update daily" thing? not so much. i suck. life's been super busy (yadda, yadda, yadda). here's a chapter for you, though. :) many thanks to kristenlynn for all her help on this chapter. it was invaluable! thanks for reading!**

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><p>"Have you thought about what exactly it is you want to do after graduation, Jessica?"<p>

I scanned the resumé that sat on my desk and eyed the young coed sitting across from me. Bright-eyed, blonde, and clueless. And she was wearing a tutu...or what looked to me like a tutu. It was a short, fluffy tulle skirt. There were sky-high platform heels on her feet. _Who does she think she is? Carrie Bradshaw?_ I thought. These thoughts were abruptly interrupted by her not-surprising answer.

"Well, I'd love to be a top buyer for a major department store. Move to New York and work at Barney's or Nordstrom or something like that."

I tried to contain the eye roll that threatened to break through. "Well, that sounds like an interesting career," I began for what felt like the millionth time, "but you have to understand that most likely won't happen right from the get-go. We all have to start somewhere, right?"

Her starry-eyed expression didn't falter one bit. "Oh, I have confidence."

I couldn't deny her a bit of admiration on that front. "Let's take a look at your resumé."

It was pretty bleak. A coffee shop waitress for two months and basic retail for three. No internships or experience in her marketing major whatsoever. I wanted to bang my head on my desk.

Jessica had emailed her resumé to me a week prior in preparation for our meeting. I'd made some corrections and suggestions and emailed it back to her. Apparently, she hadn't taken any of them into consideration.

"Did you receive the comments I sent? I noticed that it looks pretty much the same as the copy you emailed."

"Umm...well, I don't really have any other experience or skills to put on it."

"Let me tell you a little secret about resumés, Jessica. You can turn almost anything into experience. Look at you and your...sense of...style." I cleared my throat. "Have you tried for any internships?"

"No. I don't really have the time between classes and sorority events."

My nostrils flared, and I fought to keep from heaving a sigh. "Well, you might want to consider trying to fit something in. Internships can give you invaluable experience."

"I don't know. I think I'll be okay without one. I'm moving to New York right after graduation. How important is a resumé, anyway? Won't most places have an application for me to fill out?"

I tapped my pen rapidly on the desk. "Some might. If you're satisfied with what you've got here, there's not really much more I can do for you. You can log onto the website and look around for job openings anywhere in the country, so..."

"Oh. Well can you just print me out a list or something?"

I couldn't stop the sigh this time. "Let me level with you. If you want to make it in a big city like New York City, you're going to have to learn how to do things for yourself."

"Well, my boyfriend lives there, so he can help me–"

I stood held up a hand, making my way around the desk, refusing to waste any more of my time. "Say no more. That's great. I'm sure he'll have all kind of connections and be very helpful. It's been a pleasure, Jessica. Good luck with your job hunt!" I shook her hand and rushed her out of my office.

She started to say something else, but I told her goodbye, closed my office door, and collapsed onto the small couch. I almost felt badly about cutting her off, but that lasted for about three seconds. I wondered briefly if anyone would mind if I just curled up there on the couch and napped until it was time to go home.

No dice. My office phone buzzed, and our receptionist's voice announced the arrival of my next client. "Bella, Lauren Mallory is here for her appointment."

I got up and opened my door again to see my new client locked in a hug with none other than Jessica.

Oh, goody.

x-x-x

Just like most recent days, the dogs came bounding toward the garage door when I walked into the house. It brought a smile to my face after a long day.

"Hey, pups," I said, bending down to scratch behind each of their ears. Luna had never been one for this type of greeting, but Indy's typical puppy enthusiasm had obviously been a good influence on her. I had an inkling that it was more about jealousy than anything else.

Indy barked his yippy greeting, which set Luna off as well. They started chasing each other around, making a giant loop through the kitchen, under the dining room table, into the living room and back to the kitchen, then up the stairs. I giggled as I watched Indy's giant puppy feet sliding along the slick hardwoods.

"How can I concentrate with all this noise around me?" came a teasing voice from the stairs.

I looked up to see Edward descending the back staircase into the kitchen, hair disheveled and glasses on. Damn, I loved those glasses. My lady parts tingled a teeny bit whenever he wore them. They'd been a recent addition; so many years of staring at computer screens had done a number on his eyes.

"Hey, babe," he said with a kiss to my cheek. "How was your day?"

"Okay." I sighed. "Yours?"

"Stressful. I spent most of the day trying to instruct a boardroom full of whiners about–" He stopped and looked at me with an amused expression, knowing full well that I wouldn't understand a single word of the technical mumbo jumbo he was about to spew. "Software stuff," he finished.

"Speaking of whiners," I said as I opened the fridge, "I had an appointment with another hopeful senior today to go over her with her resumé. I emailed her with some suggestions to make it more impressive, right? She brought a new copy in with her, and she hadn't made one single change. Not one!" I stuffed a few grapes into my mouth. "I mean, what the hell is the point of her asking for help if she's not going to take my suggestions? It's stupid, not to mention a waste of my time. And when I told her she needs more experience in her field if she expects to find a job, she told me she has 'confidence.' What the hell is that? It's my job to help get these students ready for real life, and none of them seem to care! It's a thankless job. I hate this time of year, when they're all scrambling to figure out what to do after graduation." I growled in frustration and coughed when a grape almost went down the wrong pipe.

"Calm down there, stress eater. Chew your food before you inhale it," said Edward.

I shot him _The Look_. You know the one...eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, lips slightly pursed, sometimes with a raised eyebrow thrown in for good measure. But I knew he was right. I _was_ a stress eater, and I did tend to get on a roll and forget that I had food in my mouth when ranting.

"Sorry," he said, coming over to embrace me. He pried my white-knuckled fingers from the refrigerator door and closed it gently, then kissed each of my knuckles. "So we've both had stressful days. Why don't we get takeout and watch a couple of movies?"

I nodded into his chest. "Sounds nice."

x-x-x

Nice was definitely not how it started out. I dished out the freshly delivered Thai food onto plates while Edward perused both our DVD collection and Netflix, calling out titles periodically. I'd nixed almost everything he'd suggested. _Braveheart. Waterworld. The Three Musketeers. _Three of his favorites. The ones he watched most often when he woke up before me on Sunday mornings.

"_Pride and Prejudice?_" he called.

"Keira or Colin?" Like I even needed to ask.

"Keira."

_Of course. _

"I hate the old one," he said.

"First of all, it's not _old. _And it's more accurate."

"Bella, what a snob you are!" He chuckled. It was one of his favorite quotes from the movie.

"No," I said, flipping through Netflix's suggested titles. Let's pick something else. We watch that one all the time."

"_The Time Traveler's Wife!_" he said. "We haven't seen that one."

"God, no," I said with a groan. "Please, no sappy movies."

When we were first dating, my husband was notorious in my circle of friends for his tolerance for girly movies. None of my friends' boyfriends would take them to see movies like _Mean Girls. _But they had no clue. He didn't just tolerate them. He loved them. _Loved_ them. I had to admit it was endearing at first, but as the years went by, it got kind of annoying. I loved a good artsy film. Something that made me think. It wasn't that I hated the kind of movies he liked, but chick flicks and action movies (God, if those weren't the antitheses of one another...) all the time got old.

"How about _Exit Through the Gift Shop?_" I suggested. "It's a documentary about street artists and stuff."

"Really, Bella? A documentary?"

I shrugged. "I don't see us agreeing on anything in the near future. How about we just watch old _South Park _episodes?"

"What about this one?" I looked up to find Edward holding up my prized copy of one of the best movies ever made. He was grinning and waving it back and forth slowly. He knew he had me. It was the best compromise – romance, mystery, and action all combined into one. A formula that many modern moviemakers tried to emulate but never perfected, in my opinion.

"_Casablanca!_ Yes, I vote yes!"

"But we watch it all the time," he said in a high voice that I assumed was supposed to be an imitation of mine.

It wasn't a good imitation. I didn't sound that whiny.

Did I?

"Okay, we'll watch _Casablanca. _But only because I know your crush on Bogie could never come to fruition. You know, since he's dead and all."

"Um, how about the fact that it's your favorite too?"

"That too," he said, taking his plate and sitting next to me on the couch.

As the credits began to roll, Edward hummed and put an arm around me. "Bella," he began in another poorly imitated voice. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful compromise."

If I didn't know better, I'd think my husband was made of cheese.


	8. Weekend Warriors

"I need a shorter piece," said Edward.

"Huh?" I asked, my mind in other places.

"Bella, I can't get it in."

I lay back on the couch, twirling a strand of hair around my finger, eyes glued to my husband.

"Wait. No, I'll probably be able to get it in. Now I need a longer piece."

I cleared my throat. "That's what she said."

He turned his head to gaze at me from his kneeling place on the floor and smirked. "That's not what _you've_ ever said, is it now?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. _Fucking hell. _Few things were hotter than Edward Cullen all red-faced and sweaty, hair sticking up everywhere, jeans slipping low on his hips and t-shirt dirty as he committed manual labor like it was a sin. All that, paired with the look he was now casting over his shoulder, combined to create a warm feeling low—oh, so low—in my abdomen. He was right. Never had I _ever_ had the need to ask for a longer…piece.

"That's what I thought."

_Guh. _After seven years of marriage, he could still send shockwaves through my body with a single word or glance.

His eyes smoldered for a moment before he turned back to his work. "Now can you hand me a long plank?"

"You can hand _me_ a long plank anytime," I said, but he either ignored it or didn't hear me.

I reluctantly stood from my spot on the couch and went to the opened box of wooden floor planks in the middle of the room. We were replacing the flooring in our house, and we wanted to finish it in one weekend. After living in the same house for five years and not really doing anything to make it our own, we'd finally decided it was time to give it something of a facelift. The only thing I could really do was help Edward spread plastic sheeting, open boxes of planks, and hand him whatever size he needed.

Contrary to what I believed to be true about couples doing home redecoration, it had gone surprisingly well. We were about halfway finished, and there hadn't been a single argument.

The only thing—or should I say being—that stood in our way was Indy. Unlike Luna, he had no fear. Our older dog was a bit skittish with all the noise and the upheaval of her home. She'd stayed out of sight for most of the day, probably lounging on the bed upstairs. Indy, being the six-month-old puppy he was, needed firsthand knowledge of every little step of the process. He seemed to be attached to Edward, following him around and sticking his nose on every wooden plank and every tool.

"I'm convinced," Edward said as he hammered a board into place, "that if Indy had opposable thumbs, he'd be a big help."

"He's so nosy," I agreed.

"Come on, dude. Why don't you go find Luna?"

The puppy cocked his head at the sound of his sister's name and scrambled off to find her. I giggled as Edward scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned back in a corner.

"Why's this wall so gross?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"This wall. It's got something, like…splattered all over it."

I kneeled down to inspect the wall from his perspective. "Ew. What is that?" He was right; there was some kind of splatter there. It could've been from anything. A spilled beer, dog pee…who knew? I was a little bit disgusted by us in that moment.

Edward sighed. "Stupid flat paint. You barely bump up against it, and _BAM! _There's a mark on the stupid wall."

"Maybe…" I trailed off, unsure if I wanted to voice the idea I had in mind. Finally, I sighed and bit the bullet. "Maybe we should just repaint while we're doing the floors. We don't have to worry about getting paint on the carpet or trim. I've wanted to change the color of the living room for a while anyway."

Edward bit the inside of his cheek, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

"Now?" I asked, rethinking my suggestion. I really hated painting. "I mean...what's your opinion? Do you really think we should do it or just live with it?"

"If you want the walls a different color, we'd better do it now. Otherwise, we both know it'll never get done."

"I guess."

An old favorite children's book came to mind then. _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie..._

x-x-x

Two hours and two hundred dollars later, I fired off a text to my best friend Alice.

_Last minute addition to weekend plans. Feel like doing a little painting? _

Her response came a minute later. _You supply the snacks and beer, and we'll be there. _

"Sweet. Alice and Jasper are coming to help," I said as Edward loaded the painting supplies into the back of the car. "We just have to swing by the store and pick up libations."

Another fifty bucks on pizza, snacks, and beer, and we were headed back home. This short weekend renovation was starting to become an expensive and time-consuming endeavor.

x-x-x

"Hey, weekend warriors!" Alice called as she and Jasper came through the front door. "Let's get this painting party started."

I hugged my bestie, thanking her profusely as I passed out cold bottles of beer.

"Weekend warriors, huh?" Edward grunted as he pried a baseboard away from the wall with a loud _crack_.

I winced.

"Chill, babe. We're replacing the trim. Doesn't matter if it gets trashed."

Within seconds, he and Jasper had fallen into an easy routine of passing planks, prying trim, and measuring for cuts. Alice and I poured paint into trays and gathered all our tools.

Jasper carried a board through the kitchen as we equipped ourselves with rollers and brushes.

"Uh. You ladies might want to take all the stuff off the walls before you start," he said.

_Oh_.

"I told you I hate painting," I said. "So much so that I've blocked out all memory of what to do."

We set about taking down paintings and curtain rods and removing hardware from the walls.

"Oh my God, this is such a long screw!" Alice cried as she stood on a ladder and twisted a screwdriver. "It's taking forever to get this thing out."

"That's what she said," Jasper replied.

I snorted. Home renovation was proving to be a great supplier of one-liners.

Finally, we were able to touch paint to walls. For an hour or two, everything seemed to be going well. Alice and I made good progress painting, and the rich, dark gray color looked like suede covering the main wall. Edward and Jasper even seemed to find a rhythm with the flooring. But as the afternoon turned to evening, stage two of Adventures in Home Renovation began.

The cursing phase.

"If we fuck it up, it's gonna come out looking fucking stupid over here," Edward said, gripping his hair between his long fingers.

"Yeah, but we've gotta at least fucking try it, man," said Jasper. "There's no other way."

"Son of a bitch!" Edward yelled later as he smashed his thumb with a hammer.

"Muzzle-frick-in-a-basket!" Alice yelled when she dripped paint in her hair. She wasn't one for actual bad words. She made up her own on the spot and was rather talented at it, even if they didn't make any sense. She rarely repeated one.

I dissolved into giggles, entering that stage of exhaustion where the only thing you can do is laugh in a giddy, nearly insane manner.

"I believe they call that slap-happy, folks," Edward said with a chuckle as he came over and tugged me down from the chair I stood on, one arm under my back, the other under my legs. I held my roller high in the air, trying not to get paint anywhere.

"Ew. Put me down. You're all sweaty."

"You love it." He nibbled my ear and set me down on my feet.

I ran my hand through his crazy hair, which stuck straight up and out in all directions. It was held that way by a mixture of sweat and dust, but it looked so damned sexy that I didn't care. "I do. I really do."

"You'd better not be getting any paint in my hair."

"And what are you going to do to me if I do?"

He reached under my shorts and pinched my butt cheek, making me yelp, and walked away toward the garage.

"Tease!" I called after him.

x-x-x

"I think that's a good stopping place for today," Edward said, standing up and brushing his hands over his jeans.

Alice started a slow clap, and I yawned, past the point of giddy and at the threshold of "put me the fuck to bed _now._" She and I had long since given up painting neatly and sped through the last wall. We were now draped over whatever space we could find on the couch among all the crap. I surveyed the room. Dust was absolutely everywhere. Everything in the room was coated in it. All of the furniture was pushed to the side of the room where the flooring had already been installed. Tools, nails, screws, paint cans and brushes, tarps, and beer bottles littered the rest.

"This place is a wreck. It's making me anxious."

"Don't worry, babe," said Edward, coming over to kiss me on the temple. "We'll have it finished tomorrow, no sweat."

We cleaned up what little we could and said goodbye to Alice and Jasper, who promised to return to help again the next day.

No sooner had they left than Edward had me pushed up against the wall, attacking my neck and collarbone with his lips and teeth. "Do you know how much it turned me on, seeing you standing on a chair in those tiny shorts, stretching your arms up above your head so your tits stuck out?" His hands wandered up my sides as he pressed his hard-on against me. "Are you even wearing a bra? I could see how hard your nipples were when the windows were open before, when you complained about being cold. Do you know how fucking sexy you are?"

"Edward—"

His hands expertly undid the hooks of my bra and moved back around to palm my breasts. One hand continued its work there as the other moved down to shove my shorts aside. I moaned like a hooker.

"Edward," I said on a sigh.

"That's right," he cooed, grabbing my hand and bringing it down to press against the protruding fly of his jeans. He groaned.

I raised an arm above my head to brace myself against the wall. And that was when I realized our mistake.

"Edward!" I cried more urgently.

He pulled his mouth from my neck and looked at me with a concerned expression, his eyes clearing slightly from their sex haze. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! The wall is still wet."

"Oh, shit." He grabbed my hips and yanked me forward. The still-tacky paint tugged my hair as he pulled me away from the wall and turned me around. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, Bella."

I surveyed the damage to the wall as he examined me from behind. Not horrible. I grabbed a brush that I hadn't had the energy to clean—"I'll buy a new one," I had stated petulantly—and smoothed the paint out.

Edward stood behind me, peeling my shirt away from my back and trying to get paint out of my hair with a paper towel.

I heard a rumble from his chest and knew he was about to burst. "Go ahead."

He exploded with laughter. "Bella, I'm so sorry," he repeated, "but you have to admit it's funny."

"It's a little funny," I agreed, turning around to smile at my handsome, silly, good-natured husband. "But you're going to be the one to wash this paint out of my hair in the shower."

His laughter died, and his eyes darkened again. "I have absolutely no problem with that."

"I knew you wouldn't."

x-x-x

"What the fuuuuuck?" I groaned when I shuffled down the stairs the next morning. "The walls look like shit. Where's my coffee?"

Edward looked up from where he was laying a new sheet of plastic on the bare quarter of the floor. "What are you talking about? And coffee's in the kitchen."

I shivered and felt goosebumps rise on my skin as a cold cross-breeze blew through the open windows. "The walls! Look at the paint! It's all streaky and spotty and stupid-looking."

"It's not stupid-looking."

"It is! I love the color, but you can see where Alice and I got tired and stopped caring. Look here." I pointed out a spot where someone had gone back over a drip with a brush.

"You're being neurotic."

"Am not! Look at this." I gestured to a white spot in a corner. "And this!"

"I'm rather fond of that spot. I think we should leave it," Edward said as he came up behind me and examined the section we'd ruined when he'd pushed me against it the night before. His erection pressed against my backside, and I laughed.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Au contraire. It is I who will be getting into _you_."

"Oh, my God. I haven't even had my coffee yet. What is it about this project that's making you so horny?"

He raised one eyebrow, leveling me with his sexiest stare. "Don't think I haven't noticed you eyeballing me when I'm kneeling on the floor and banging boards." He thumbed my nipple through my nightshirt. "I'm not even sure if this is from the air blowing in or because you can't resist me in all my manly manliness. Or maybe you're thinking of last night's shower."

I narrowed my eyes, and he smacked me on the butt. "Go get your coffee, you little addict."

I stumbled to the kitchen, grumbling about having to do a second coat of paint. No way was Alice going to be okay with that. If I was sore, she probably was too.

"Fuck it," I said regally an hour later, sitting atop a stack of pillows on the recliner. "I don't care anymore. It'll be covered by furniture and pictures anyway."

"That's my girl," Edward said with a chuckle. "Now. I need a long piece. Will you give it to me?"

I pursed my lips to suppress a grin. "That's what she said."


End file.
